Behind Sad Emerald Eyes
by DarkNaruto002
Summary: A saying claims that eyes are a window to a person's soul. But, can the same be true of Harry's, whose actions say the contrary and instead, suggest that he is dark and dangerous? Harry may only have misleading eyes afterall.
1. The Prince's Return

**º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸ °º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø**

**Book One: Darkness Rises**

**º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸ °º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_. If I did, Severus Snape would not have died and Harry Potter would have been a very powerful wizard, a Slytherin, and not have ended up with Ginny Weasley (among many other things, of course).

**Warnings:** AU. Slash. OCs and OOC. Mentions of other media (i.e. _Naruto_, etc.) and religious material. Vulgar language. Child abuse and more. Rated M for a reason. You have been warned.

**Author's Note:** Songs that are to be heard in a chapter or a certain section of a chapter will be underneath the bolded heading "Song(s)" in the beginning of that chapter.

**Extended Summary:** A saying claims that eyes are a window to a person's soul. But, can the same be true of Harry's, whose actions say the contrary and instead, suggest that he is dark and dangerous? Harry may only have misleading eyes after all. He is nothing like how the Headmaster and Professors expected, who see nothing but a second Tom Riddle, and hence, a future Voldemort in the making.

**Key:**

"Dialogue"  
_'Thoughts'_  
::Snake:: Pauseltongue

x-oOo-x

**Song:  
**  
"_Return of the King_" by Immediate Music. The song can be found on the _Prince Caspian_ Soundtrack.

x-oOo-x

"_One night, a man had a dream…." _–From _Footprints_

x-oOo-x

**Chapter One: The Prince's Return**

"Stupid, boy. He's not working!" Petunia lowly screeched to herself as she looked out her kitchen window hatefully, though making sure she was quiet enough so that the neighbors—though they would understand—and _that_, wouldn't hear her.

She couldn't believe at the scene she had just seen when she saw _that_ pause for ten seconds before going back to work on the garden _she_ worked so hard to have and maintain.

"Might as well teach the thing a lesson and give the whelp a piece of my mind."

She resolved on giving him a piece of her mind indeed, but with a little…extra something before her dear husband, who was at a game with their son, Dudley, took care of the situation.

"A waste of my time he is. And, to think, making me do the same with him!," she continued to mumbled to herself in distain as she made her way towards _him_—the Freak.

Who else would be the Freak? Her or someone in her _normal_ and _perfect_ family that consisted of Vernon or their precious Dudley?

No, it was that…that _thing _who was lower than a slave and dog, than dirt, feces and urine put together, a fact that both Vernon and Dudley agreed on. They always made it a point to mention that fact to the Freak.

'_And to think, he will be receiving his dreaded letter any day now_. _His birthday is fast approaching._ _Oh, but I'll make sure he doesn't get it…. He'll think he is better than us and use his…magic," _she thought as she cursed the word_, "on us no doubt if he does get his letter."_

She knew, after all, what was so _special_ about the Freak's upcoming birthday.

It was only one more month until Harry Potter's eleventh birthday, July 31st. Normally, Petunia and her family would not care that the Freak's birthday was approaching—only the chores and punishments ever increasing each day the cursed birthday was approaching being the only indication her family would give acknowledging the fact—but, _this_ time, it was different.

She knew from having a freak of an…acquaintance…and witch sister (not that she considered _her_ –the vile woman— sister) that, with the Freak's eleventh birthday approaching, it meant only one thing: his letter from Hogwarts was about to arrive.

'_And, not you,'_ a voice viciously said. She shoved the voice quickly and violently out of the recesses of her mind.

'_But, no, I will not allow it. Vernon will take care of everything; of the magic using and the letter…as always. Besides, they can't make him go…. They haven't come for him all through the years…especially when he has gotten his…punish-corrections!'_

For the past half a year, the entire Hogwarts situation made her only more mad, jealous (not that she would acknowledge and admit to feeling this sentiment towards the Freak) and on edge towards the Freak, which only made her take more of her stress and frustration on the Freak.

Not that she alone was wearier as the trash's birthday approached. Vernon was as well; though, her darling's methods were different from hers which consisted of more chores, less nourishment, "bandaging" and more backhanding.

Her decision on the entire…magical…issue involved her keeping the Freak from getting the letter one way or another. If all else failed, Vernon would think of something else to get the situation under control. As always.

"Boy!" his Aunt Petunia yelled disdainfully at him once she reached the yard, her dark brown hair becoming a bit in disarray.

Harry had known his aunt had come outside. But, he continued working on the weeds, as if he was not expecting her. No need for suspicion after all.

He quickly hissed to Garuini, his snake, as he continued to work on his Aunt's garden when he first detected his Aunt approaching from inside the house.

_::_My Aunt is coming. Go hide under my coat quickly before she comes and sees you.::

::Let me know when she leaves so I can come out:: Garuini replied back, though worried for her man-child since she knew that good nothing would come from his Aunt.

The semi-long green snake slithered into his grey, obviously second-hand, coat just in time. Harry stopped picking the weeds with his bare hands and slowly turned and stood up to face his Aunt after she called him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," the Freak answered unemotionally, his eyes looking at her heated gaze.

Petunia covered her shudder that she almost let out once she took a look at him—after all, why let the Freak think he scared her? No, no need for misinterpretations—and sneered at him and continued to look at his eyes.

Oh, but how she hated those eyes, the same color as his freak of a mother. She hated it even more because his eyes always had a certain emotion in them…such a _human_ expression just did not—could not—belong to some_thing_ like him.

"Hurry up already and finish the gardening! I have many other chores for you to do!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," came the same unemotional reply with a ting of coldness. He remained stoic as always.

'_How dare he use that tone with me! After permitting him to live under our same _human_ roof and eat from our _normal_ human food! Ungrateful little Freak!'_

She narrowed her eyes at his lack of respect. After all, she could have abandoned him someplace else where he would have a worse life.

'_And this is how he thanks us?'_

"See that you do that! And, need I remind you imbecile to watch your tone with me? A retard, that's what you are, even more so than your own mother, if you can believe that… not that I ever can."

"And, just for your day dreaming that I know you did—don't deny it— I'll give you extra chores and no food for another day!" she continued to say as she grabbed him roughly by the neck, semi-choking him again—wishing he would die in the process—before abruptly letting him go before she actually managed to kill him.

After all, how could she explain to the neighbors who knew that the Freak lived with them that the retard had died of natural causes when his neck would be bruised with finger prints printed on his dead neck?

Then again, they might well think that it was the idiot's fault since they did sympathize with _her_ and her family for dealing with a delinquent, troubled and _special_…child.

But, the authorities and hospital would be a different story altogether.

'_Good, on the ground where an animal—though they're certainly above him—should be,'_ she happily thought as she saw him on the ground, trying to catch his breath discreetly after letting him go roughly.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia. But, I was not daydreaming. I was only working on the garden as you ordered me," Harry replied back after she commanded him to stand up sharply. His voice was a bit short with a low rasping voice due to the choking, though lacking the bit of his characteristic coldness, but still with the hollow tone that characterized his voice.

"Watch you cheek! Or, I'll tell Vernon and we all know that you don't want that," Petunia with once again narrowed eyes quietly hissed, though with a sadistic gleam within her eyes.

"And, watch yourself. One more mistake and you're off early to your bedroom again, which is just waiting for more of your tears and blood, you F-R-E-A-K!"

Harry nodded once and continued to face her with his back perfectly straight once again.

She felt her message being heard loud and clear, but she continued look at him for a bit longer when she saw his barely there contemplating expression on his blank face.

She knew he was up to something, he always was; but when he did something, he covered his tracks nicely. Not that that released him from his punishments. He was always polite and he seemed to paint himself as a perfect gentleman and normal to others; though, she, her family and the neighbors knew he was not.

The only time he was not his prim self was when he thankfully was being "corrected" or when she was bandaging him when he hurt _himself_.

Whatever it was he was up to, it would not be tolerated.

With a hard SMACK to Harry's left check as a warning, Petunia turned around and very slowly walked back to the kitchen room window to continue on to spy on him and the neighbors. She had wasted enough time and energy on him—no use in wasting anymore on a lost case, after all.

With her head in the air in a superior manner, a sneer plastered on her face directed at him once more, she continued on her way to _her_ house.

"You better not try something, Freak. Vernon will punish you, though he already will with you lazing around doing nothing."

An echoing sound was heard once she slammed the kitchen door. The threat and promise hung in the air and echoed into the darkening day.

Harry slowly turned towards the garden and continued to work immediately.

::You can come out now. She is gone:: Harry said to his coat.

::What did she tell you?::

::Nothing.::

::Don't dare lie to me! Are they going to harm you again? And, what did she do to you! I felt the fall when you almost squashed me with your weight!::

::Nothing.::

::Don't lie! Are they going to harm you again? Tell me what exactly did she do to you.::

::Nothing. Now, drop the matter and let me finish my work before it gets even more dark:: He coldly commanded her_._

:: I do not have time to talk right now as I still have other chores to do. If I do not finish quickly, they will make me stay in that cold and dark basement, again. Here, let me unshrink you::

::We'll talk about this later. I should bit them with the way they treat you. Yet, you never let me:: the snake lamented.

::You should have your revenge on them for how they treat you. And, don't think that I will let this matter drop.::

Harry listened seemingly uninterested, though she knew better.

::Don't worry, Garuini. I will get my revenge soon enough:: he uncaringly but knowingly said.

Nothing further was said as Harry unshrunk his pet snake that he freed at a zoo on Dudley's birthday a few days ago. He had decided to keep her. Why not? It was not difficult to hide…at least for him. Besides, he could always use an ally….

Garuini decided to watch Harry under the only tree in the backyard and in the entire Dursley Residence, which was located in the right corner from where Harry was working.

"Might as well finish weeding the garden," Harry murmured lowly, touching his left check nonchalantly. His face not used to any injuries since it was one of the few places his relatives avoided injuring him since it was visible.

Garuini narrowed her eyes at Harry when he touched his check.

A long line crossed a heart cut that was made by Petunia's ring when she had dragged her hand across Harry's face after she had backhanded him across his elegantly black marked right cheek.

While Garuini was concerned about the added wound, Harry was not. He was thoughtful of another matter all together as he immediately continued to do his garden chores.

Had Petunia looked back after her final warning, she would have worried herself with what she would have seen and would promptly tell Vernon as soon as he would get there; because, as she left, Harry's facial expression changed.

She did not see his emerald eyes turn sharp and cold for a second, before an unusual and, for him, unnatural smile appear on his face just right when she turned her back to him after giving the bastard her last warning….

…with one thought on his mind: _'Hogwarts.'_

Days, weeks, months, seasons and years had been counted down since he had been five years old. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he received his Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry letter. That would mark his return to the Wizardry world at last.

And, with his upcoming eleventh birthday, he knew he would receive his letter at any possible time now….Not that he told anyone that he knew, of course….

As Harry continued to work on the garden, he smirked as he thought of the events that were to come, his eyes gaining a lively spark as he commanded his magic to reduce the pain the wound inflicted on him, glad that the wound was not deep enough that it caused him as much pain.

Garuini saw Harry's expression. She knew that she would be there for Harry every step of the way and would help him, no matter what he wanted and why…he had after all freed her.

But, she wondered what Harry's expression could mean…and whether if it was for the best… or for the worst…and, for whom…as dark shadows shadowed Harry's face, eerily enhancing his emerald eyes.

x-oOo-x

**Author's Notes:**

Here is the first chapter, as promised! I do hope you enjoyed it. Tell me what you thought, your impression(s), question(s) and so on. I will be happy to read and answer.

For your information, this _will_ be different from cannon in…well, you will see how, though this chapter does make it obvious. This _is_ AU for a reason!

And, please read the warnings in this chapter because I do not want to hear any complaining. It _is_ rated M for a reason, which you will discover why as the story progresses. I will not be putting anymore warnings, nor will I put any warnings within the story when questionable events will be taking place since it disturbs the flow of the story.

Check my profile as well for announcements and anything else.

Please review!

x-oOo-x


	2. Wednesday

**Author's Note:** "Chapter One: A Plow in the Garden" has been re-edited. Please re-read the chapter before reading this chapter.

And, just to clarify, the song(s) that are posted for a chapter is to be heard while reading throughout the chapter, unless specified otherwise. In which case, a song may be listened for only a section of the chapter; but, this will be explained if this is the case.

**Dedication:** This chapter is dedicated to _YaoiCookies87_ and _TheLovelessRose_. I would like to thank you them for their reviews and favorites alert!

**Key: **

"Dialogue"

'_Thoughts'_

Flashback

_Text_

::Snake:: Pauseltongue

_~~ Voice Echo~~ _

x-oOo-x

**Song:**

"_Blackbird"_ by The Beatles

x-oOo-x

**Chapter Two: Wednesday**

Harry made sure to have his thin hood be kept in place so that his face was obscured from everyone who looked in his direction as he headed to The Leaky Cauldron. He did not want anyone to see and recognize him by the mark. He did not know his status in the wizardry world—if he had any—but he was not willing to risk it.

Though he had already taken some risks with the Dursleys with the letter situation, Harry knew that pushing his luck was not wise.

Instead, Harry needed to gather more information. That was where books came in. Knowledge was everything after all.

"_First order of operation: observation."_

::Garuini, make sure you observe the surroundings for details that I may miss. But, do not come out until I tell you to. I do not want anyone noticing you and drawing attention to us,::Harry ordered his hidden shrunk snake that he decided to take to the Wizardry world.

::Fine; but, you know that I am a snake and we value our own cunningness,::Garuini retorted,::so, I would know not to draw attention without you telling me. Just be careful with the wizards and witches since I do not know anything about them—you are on your own, Harry::

Harry pulled open the door to The Leaky Cauldron and went to the bartender—who anyone could deduce automatically by his presence that he was in charge of the place—after continuing to walk despite some looking at his direction suspiciously for a few seconds before continuing to what they were doing when he walked inside the establishment.

'_I should ask the bartender how to get to the wizardry world from here. Professor McGonagall should have been more specific in her instructions She was probably vague on purpose… and I cannot for remember clearly how….' _

As he walked over, Harry heard his name being mentioned between the bartender and from a slightly drunk customer.

"So, what does The Prophet have on th' front p'ge, Judas?" Tom the bartender asked Judas Jack, his faithful customer of thirty years.

"N'thing but news of Harry Potter's return to our world. He t'rns eleven this yea' and will be goin' to H'gwarts."

"I see. Good thing, then, yea? He sho'ld of stayed here in the first place, in my opini'n, than instead with Muggles from wh't i've heard."

Judas nodded his head in silent agreement.

"Yeah. He was to st'y with his Muggle rel'tives from his Mrs. P'tter's side. Tragic how she and her h'sband died. Anyway, since Harry Potter's rel'tives h've no magic—them b'ing Muggles and all—he was to be with th'm for wh'tever reason the one that took him there had."

"Judas, I suspect it was Headm'ster Dumbl'dore," Tom continued, "He was close to the Potters. B'sides, Harry Potter had no 'ther rel'tives. But, anyway, since it was Dumbl'dore, he m'st have had a good re'son. It's Dumbled're, aft'r all" Tom replied, and was about to continue when Jack made a face at Dumbledore's name being mentioned, until he noticed (barely) a lone figure with strange dressings listening subtly to their conversation.

'_I alm'st didn't see h'm. If I hadn't turned 'n th't dir'ction, I would've miss'd him. Must also be a M'ggle beca'se of his cl'thes. I w'nder who it is. Hmmm…c'n't see the young child's face with th't…wh'tever fabric he has 'ver his face.'_

What caused concern was that he seemed based on his height which suggested the figure to be a yound child, about nine to eleven years old.

The child had to be either a Muggle or Muggleborn since magical children did not come to his tavern by themselves, only on rare occasions to use the floo; but, even then, they were always accompanied by an adult wizard or witch since the tavern was no place for children. But, the child had to have magic to see and be at the tavern, thus a Muggleborn then.

Besides, if the child was only a mere Muggle with no magic and thus no reason to be there, there would be Aurors there already to take care of the situation and return him to the Muggle world, though not before Obliviating him.

'_But, wh't was a Muggleb'rn ch'ld th're by h'mself with'ut an esoort? I didn't even think it was even all'wed' _

"How c'n I help, yea?," Tom asked as he finished his thoughts, making Jack, too, turn his attention from Tom to the child next to him.

'_M'ght as well ask and get answ'rs than w'ndering and not getting' anywh're,' _Tom quickly thought to himself.

Tom tried to see the young child's face but was unsuccessful. The cloth just covered the child's face all too well.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me how to gain entrance to the wizardry world? Professor McGonagall wrote that the entrance was through a door with a certain combination of tapping movements," the child replied.

Tom was amazed that the child spoke eloquently so young. Even Pureblood children didn't talk as this child did. When Pureblood children talked, they did not have the speech as this child; and, even when addressing adults, if the Pureblood children weren't accompanied by their parents, many didn't talk as formal as this child.

'_Must h've good parents, then,'_ Tom concluded.

"Right. Prof'ssor McGonnagal was right. But, you need a wand to 'pen the door from this tavern to the wizardry w'rld. She must of assumed that you would have ask'd for help if she was vague about how to 'nter the wizardry w'rld."

"Here, let me take help you," Tom continued as he made his way towards the child.

"Be right b'ck, Jack," Tom directly told Judas.

"Right," Judas answered. "Good luck, kid" Judas said as he directed his attention to the child. He found it extremely strange that a child his age was hiding. No one hid unless they had something to hide after all.

The child inclined his head once and caught up went with Tom with long strides. Judas narrowed his eyes at the child. _If_ it was a child. After all, this was the wizardry world….What also concerned him was a brief, barely there graceful movement within the child's gray whatever-it-was fabric. It seemed like a movement of a snake. That thought made Judas pause. Snakes were bad omen and not positively viewed—what with the whole You-Know-Who ordeal. It was only luck that made him see the movement. He would have to follow the kid, because of the snake and the suspicious behavior.

Tom made sure to walk the child's pace as they both headed towards a discreetly covered corner of the tavern.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The noise was the only thing heard in the eerie silence that had come between Tom and the child as Tom tapped the brick wall that would introduce the Muggleborn child to another whole world. He still thought it was strange and unethical in letting a Muggle child all by himself. He would have offered himself to help the child but he had work to do.

"H're we are," Tom said as the brilliant wizardry world came into view. It was still early in the morning and few people out about in the shopping district of Diagon Alley.

"Enjoy your stay and come looking for me when you want. I'll be happy to tell you anything you have questions on," Tom explained to the oddly alone silent child who he couldn't feel sorry for.

Getting a polite single nod, Tom turned to leave but not before trying to get a glimpse at the child's face. What he saw made him pause abruptly, his face turning chalk white. After all, why was this child with an outline of a face he had not expected there at this very moment?

'_It couldn't be him, right? But, I n'ver forget a face. But, he looks just like him…except his eyes….'_ He was about to follow the child only to see that he had disappeared like a ghost…as if the child was never there but only a part of his imagination.

"What's wr'ng, Tom?" Judas asked him wearly as he made his way to the bar to get ready for the day. He noticed that Judas looked as if he was packing to leave.

Judas thought with narrowed eyes, _"Did the 'kid' do somthin'?"_

"N'thing. Just…nothin.' " It was just the mistake. It was not _him._

All was well.

x-oOo-x

Despite the few wizards and witches that were in Diagon Alley, Harry observed them as much as they observed him. He, after all, wore different clothing than these magical beings since he noticed that the wizards and witches wore robes which covered most of their bodies. But, unlike him, their faces were not covered.

'_I should __get some clothing. But, first, are Muggle currency used here as well?'_

::Garuini, where do you think a bank in the wizardry world would be located?:: Harry asked his snake quietly enough so no one would hear him.

::Probably somewhere noticeable. It would probably have a distinct appearance from the rest to make it stand out from other buildings,:: Garuini hissed also quietly before going back in observing the strange world as much as she could through the coat fabric.

Upon seeing a tall, white and Roman-like building he had seem from books he read in the library—his only one of two sanctuary places he had from the Durselys in the Muggle world**(1)**—he knew that he had just found the place he was looking for. The elegancy of the place oozed refinement and experience Harry knew banks liked to portray themselves to be.

He read the sign outside the door before entering Gringotts. No surprise or human reaction was seen on Harry's face as one would expect from a child new to the wizardry world as he faced a _goblin_ whose name "Griphook" appeared on his uniform clearly written.

"How may I help you?," Griphook asked abruptly in clipped language.

"I am here to inquire whether or not Muggle" the word was sneered a bit—and tone being noticed by Griphook who narrowed his eyes at him—"money is used in the wizardry world. If not, may the money I have brought be converted into the currency that is used here?"

The Goblin sneered at the head covered child. He could not believe that he was discussing business with a mere child by the looks of it. Where were his parents; he had no time to waste with a mere child? Ignorant wizards!

"All transactions made are between adult, or at least emancipated wizards, who I am sure you are not. We also do not service those who we cannot see entirely. Now—" Griphook was interrupted before he could continue.

"With all due respect" Harry continued in his calm, respectable neutral hollowed voice, "My parents are unable to make such transactions with you or anyone in this establishment due to their early demise," Harry explained to the Goblin who wondered who this suspicious calm and mature countenance was, though he of course did not show it. He was a goblin and his kind who did not show emotions at well.

"I was informed by Professor McGonagall through a Hogwarts acceptance letter that I was to give you, the teller, this key," Harry clearly and a bit sternly said as he reached for a gold-like key from his black second-hand pants and uncovered his head from his hood.

"She also stated that once you knew who I was through examining the key, I would be assisted in gaining access to some currency left by my parents and on any currency questions I may have," Harry finished with a blank face, completely not bothered with the goblin's face looking sternly at his face and overall self after his uncharacteristically displayed shock and then suspicion at seeing Harry's face, followed by surprise at seeing his scar.

"I would gladly show you the parchment, if you would like," Harry finished.

"That won't be necessary," Griphook replied while thinking of something.

Harry headed to a garment store after about an hour speaking with the Griphook about the difference between Muggle and wizardry world and the manner in which his schooling and supplies were to be paid for. He was suspicious that McGonagall did not explain all of this in her letter but then thought about it—after all, the professor might of thought that he would be explained by those whose job it was to do so. Still, it would have been helpful to know beforehand, though.

He would have to find information through books and maybe newspapers to see why some people acted surprised at his appearance. It did not escape Harry's notice how Tom (through little of what Tom saw, regrettably) and Griphook—who were the only ones who had seen his appearance thus far—reacted to his appearance.

But before that, though, a change in outwear was in need.

'_No need to stand out more than I apparently do',_ he reasoned, as he made sure his face continued to be covered by his hood.

He was after all, no longer in the Muggle world.

All this Harry thought while thinking back to how he got his wizardry letter and how he came to be in the Wizardry World.

Flashback

It had been on his eleventh birthday, a Wednesday **(2)**, when he had received and opened his Hogwarts letter. It was the only good Wednesday Harry had ever had. It was also the same day of the week in which he was found on his relatives' doorstep with only a blanket and a note.

Harry's Aunt Petunia had been preventing him from receiving his letter by sending him to do house chores—and redoing them—inside the house for half of the month of July.

"Stupid boy, go and clean up the broken glass that is in Dudley's room that he accidently caused" Petunia hissed the ordered as she saw an envelope parchment just beside the door from the corner of her eye. She thought that the Freak did not notice…what with his back turned as he slowly washed the large stack of dishes from the Dursely's breakfast meal—or feast in Vernon and Dudley's case.

Harry went upstairs—with Petunia closely escorting him there so not to see the envelope by the front door—and cleaned up the mess. Garuini was in his bedroom, currently sleeping after she had tended to him after one of his "corrections" and Aunt Petunia's own tending.

The huge amount—of varying sizes—of broken glass, he automatically noticed, was not done by mere accident. He had learned long enough the difference between accidently made and man-made glass droppings through his years living with his relatives, as some man-made glass droppings were sometimes used to create scars on his skin. Clearly Petunia must have made the glass mess as part of her plan to keep him preoccupied in the house.

'_I have to find some way to get my letter. But, how? I could ask Garuini to somehow retrieve the letter for me but how? No, unless….' _

Harry smirked, his eyes flashing triumphantly.

He went to implement his plan after finishing picking up the glass, which was hard to do without receiving any cuts (which was one of the reasons why Petunia made him do the chore and broke the glass in the first place) with the very small glass pieces that loitered Dudley's bedroom with only his hands and no protective garments.

Unfortunately, he could not use his magic.

Harry knew that his Aunt Petunia could not possibly be watching the door for _all_ the Hogwarts letters that arrived, no matter how obsessed she was in preventing him from receiving them, when she was also obsessed with watching neighbors through the living room window (since it was closest to the front door).

'_I just have to make sure that I remain more alert than Petunia. Right when a Hogwarts letter appears magically inside the house by the front door, make it invisible for no one to see. I am certain that my magic will be enough to stop the avalanche of letters.'_

After sharply taking in the Hogwarts letter right by the door and turning it invisible by painfully using his magic and leaving the letter were it had arrived for the time being, he went on to also clean the oven that he was assigned to clean while still on.

Good thing it worked. His magic was getting a bit harder to work with…what with the energy that it spent on alleviating his injuries.

Sighing, he went back to work.

Petunia turned around, interrupting her neighborhood watch, to see if the Hogwarts letter came before the brat took notice of it and see that it was addressed to him.

Nothing yet.

'_Might as well see if the retard is doing his chores.'_

Smack!

Harry flinched and accidently burned his left shoulder blade when he was struck unexpectedly on his wounded back.

"Hurry up with the cleaning, bastard!" Petunia shouted at the Freak when she saw that the shit had not been working to speed as was expected from the Freak.

She was tired of his neglectful and slowness in regards to his dues.

"Listen here, retard. After you're done, go to the library." It was already late and she knew that the letters stopped coming one by one when dusk approached, from what she had observed. There was no longer any risk that the Freak would receive his letter.

"I'll have company over in an hour. I don't want to see you, you hear? Don't come back until it's time for you to make late dinner for us!"

"And after, I'll deal with the wounds you've gotten," she answered enthusiastically, smiling a bit too sweetly.

The Freak nodded as he narrowed his eyes. Petunia continued her neighborhood watch.

After finishing cleaning the oven, he stored the bit of cleaning supplies he was only allowed for _that_ particular chore—no sense in him not being protected for _some_ (though rarely) of his chores if he would not be able to do the rest of his other "chores", not taking into account that his punishments also hindered his progress, though it did not matter to his relatives either way—he headed for the front door, seized the Hogwarts letter, and put it inside his grey coat that hid his oversized faded navy blue shirt.

Opening and closing the front house door to indicate his "leaving", Harry quietly made his way to his bedroom upstairs to ensure Aunt Petunia would not hear him...him, who should be making his way to the library.

Harry knew that the other reason why his Aunt wanted him to head for the library was because Dudley and his gang of tormentor friends were "playing" outside the house. She wanted Harry to be hurt by her son and Dudley's friends before heading to the library as she told him to do.

His Aunt Petunia did not have to worry about anything as no one would bother him due to his obvious abuse on his way to and at the library for his weak condition. He hid his pain as a true Slytherin.

Shaking his head at the knowledge, he continued on his way quietly to his room.

He had other ideas.

Sometimes, his relatives were clever as snakes with the way they regarded him. But, he was much more of a Slytherin than them.

A bit of his blood stench reached his nostrils as he entered and soundlessly closed his bedroom door.

Opening his Hogwarts letter and reading it, he grabbed a broken but still working pen from his crushed "desk" and wrote on the back of his Hogwarts parchment letter after reading and taking note of the contents within the notice. He willed his pen markings to work with the Victorian-like parchment.

'_Now, what to inquire? I know where to get my supplies and the basics of the wizardry world but I still need more information about the wizardry world. How to get there, to Diagon Alley? I will also have to ask for more information than I need,' _Harry thought.

_Professor McGonagall,_

_I accept the invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_However, I have a few questions in regards to what is expected of future students of the fine establishment in which you, Professor, are a part of._

_One question concerns the supplies that I am required to obtain that are mentioned in this Hogwarts acceptance letter parchment._

_My question is this: how__ and where am I supposed to purchase my supplies?_

_Please understand; due to the fact that my relatives do not know much of the manner in which it is required to enter the wizardry world, what currency is used in the wizardry world and other further unknown magical matters that are too numerous to detail here, I also lack this necessary knowledge. _

_You can surely imagine what questions someone in my position may have._

_As a result, if possible, include other information that I may need in order to successfully prepare for the start of the term and any other information I may need that you may think is necessary. Perhaps you may be able, also, to supply a title of a textbook that may explain more of the wizardry world?_

_No escort is needed._

_Submitted Respectively,_

_Harry Potter_

::We definitely would not want anyone with us, right Garuini?':: Harry more than stated than asked his snake who hissed in agreement as he finished his letter.

"Now, how to deliver the letter. Might as well go to the library first before Aunt Petunia comes and snoops around. I'll try to find a way to deliver the letter back once I get there. Perhaps there will be an owl there," Harry muttered to himself quietly.

::Garuini, let us leave. We will have to teleport from here to the library. Hurry and grab on.::

Garuini slithered to him, and after Harry shrunk him, went inside Harry's only coat.

::Just make sure you apparate behind one of the library's only tree so no one can see us.:: Garuini reminded him. The trees created a shaded place behind the secluded library.

Seeing no other option but to apparate to the library, Harry did just that.

Seeing an owl there, staring at him once he arrived behind the library, he knew it was not an ordinary owl. He tied the letter onto the owl with the string that was attached to it and watched it fly away to Hogwarts.

He had a feeling that he (or his relatives for that matter) would no longer have to worry about any more letter send to him once his letter was tied to the owl.

Later that same day, after his wounds—which included the four ones on his back and two on his stomach his Uncle Vernon made once he got from his work as his birthday present (as if Uncle Vernon needed an excuse)—were treated by his Aunt, he spotted the same owl from before.

Rising slowly, but with Garuini's assistance, he let the owl in through his small window.

After detaching the parchment from owl and making sure it flew back to its owner in the night sky, he laid sideways where it hurt the least to read the letter.

::Harry, get your supplies later. Don't go tomorrow since I don't think you will be able to work as much with your injuries. Your magic and I can only do so much to help:: Garuini advised him after Harry finished reading the parchment.

Before replying, Harry's vision blurred into almost nothing but the familiar darkness he had always seen before it took shape into the usual dark figure clothed in a black garment from head to toe. The figure's hiss, so familiar from his dark nightmares, was the only thing he could hear as he again heard the haunting whisperings of dark promises as the figure's face swallowed him whole.

He never heard Garuini hiss in alarm or of her barely preventing him from hitting the rock hard floor with a loud thump as he suddenly seemingly fell asleep.

_One Week Later_

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle, I need for you take me to London to gather my school supplies for Hogwarts," Harry asked in a bit of a commanding tone to his normal tone as he slowly served his relatives their breakfast—or feast for some.

Petunia and Vernon grew white with shock and disbelieve as they became still. Dudley, unlike them, was confused as to what the Freak was talking about, why the freak was asking for something, and why his parents reacted the way they were about whatever the Freak was talking about.

"Dad, Mum. What is this "Hoffurts" thing the Freak is talking about?"

That seemed to have snapped Vernon and Petunia back to normal.

"Dudley, son. Please go to your room and stay there until we call you," Vernon said a bit shakily, though he quickly recovered when he noticed, before turning to glare at Harry.

"Yes, dear. Do what your father told you."

"But, why?" Dudley asked, starting to throw a tantrum.

"Do what I told you, Dudley!" Vernon shouted, though making sure to still keep his tone low enough that the neighbors didn't hear. After all, they—unlike the Freak—were normal and he didn't want the neighbors to think otherwise.

Dudley went to his room, shocked at his father yelling at him. He had never done so. But, he didn't want to anger his father anymore than he was.

'_Besides,'_ Dudley thought, '_I'm sure the Freak will get punished for making Dad yell at me'_ Dudley finished thinking, wearing a smug smile as he turned his attention back to his sports cards.

Making sure that Dudley left, Vernon turned his attention to the Freak.

Glaring at the freak of nature, he asked, "How did you get the letter? Petunia and I made sure you won't get that damn letter!"

He would not have the Freak go to magical—he spat the word—school to learn abnormal, freakish and Devil things to be done on his family!

He clothed and housed the Freak and this is how he gets paid for his hard work?

"Understand this, you whore! You will not answer the letter and you will not go! I don't know how you got the letter. We thought that they stopped sending you them after Petunia told me yesterday that the letters stopped coming today!"

"I already replied Uncle and was informed of the wizardry world—" Harry was stopped by a powerful punch to his stomach courtesy of his Uncle.

Vernon was about to start again before Petunia stopped him.

"Vernon, if they discover about this when he goes, since he replied already he will—"

Vernon became silent with that before turning to Petunia and telling her to get the car started.

"Listen closely. I'll take you there from the goodness of our hearts. Never say we did nothin' for you. But once we return…you'll have it. I know you'll return after all," Vernon added when he noticed the retard narrow his eyes a bit.

"Good thing, then, that they gave us this Wednesday off then, huh?" Vernon continued to say before spitting Harry in the face.

"Go get dressed. Fast! We will drop you off and come back for you at Three but I will put your freakish things in the truck. I will not have your freakish things close to us!"

"We will also lock you things in your room. I don't want those Devil's works and objects tainting our pure Godly things. I hope you bring money for yourself because we ain't givin' you any. You have five minutes, shit," Vernon finished before going outside to join Petunia, continuing to curse him in low tones.

::Garuini, get into my stomach section and try to smooth it with your skin:: Harry instructed his snake which was nearby, hidden from the Dursleys.

Garuini sighed. :: I still think you should let me bit them. Go and get up before your Uncle changes his mind and doesn't take you again::

Harry breathed harsher as he attempted to get up. His stomach primarily—but certainly not just that—protested as he went up the stairs.

All the while, Harry and Garuini could not help but wonder what were the gleam that he had seen on both Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's eyes which they had gained at the same time when they exchanged a glance at each other when his Uncle changed his mind on the whole wizardry situation.

'_Something wicked this way comes' _echoed eerily a familiar raspy sharp voice within the recesses of Harry's mind.

End of Flashback

Pulling on the black cloak's hood over his head he had finish paying for, he made his way towards a place he had observed some wizards going with a silent stealth while they made sure no one noticed them going in to the said other alley. The only reason why Harry had seen them was because he was actually looking—but not just looking, but _seeing_—and because he often did the same.

"Knockturn Alley"

::Are we going to that alley? The alley seems very different than this one we are in.:: Garuini asked Harry once they reached close to the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

::Yes:: was all Harry answered back before securing Garuini onto himself inside his cloak before entering slowly into the alley, observing and copying the manner of the wizards in the place.

::Make sure to keep your wits up:: Garuini advised.

Immediately, he shadowed his face to hide his face even more.

All of Knockturn Alley was the antithesis of Diagon Alley. Rows of closed-packed dark buildings lined the street. One look and a wizard could tell by the atmosphere of the buildings themselves—of the whole alley—was that the majority of the products sold were dangerous and sinister. The people themselves all wore the dark black color from head to toe, many obscuring their faces and covering their entire bodies, leaving nothing noticeable to make them stand out in any possible way.

Harry moved with a deadly graceful swept into many of the stores, looking for what may be helpful to him in any way. He knew that anything at this place was not offered in Diagon Alley.

Many turned his way because of his height but he seemingly took no notice to it. Instead, he continued on his way with powerful and intimidating strides with his wand elegantly between his hands, making anyone who wanted to approach him become discouraged despite his height or his hinted age that his height indicated.

Though, all believed him to be an adult as no child would dare enter unaccompanied to Knockturn Alley….and no Mudblood was that powerful….

After entering Borgin & Burkes, he quickly went to the books aisle while quickly making note of all that the store had to offer.

The owner seemed to be in the back and did not heard Harry come in.

It is within one of an ancient small book that he saw a section mentioning the mark on his right cheek.

_Mark of Lineage_

_Wizards of both Pureblood and half-blood birth are born with a black lined mark on their right cheek distinct from other wizards depending on the family the wizard child descended from. Malfoy families, for example, are the only wizards that obtain the marking of a dragon. No other child not from the Malfoy lineage has this distinct marking._

_The mark cannot be hidden, not even with a glamour. _

_The mark will last on the person's skin even in death. One must take note, though, that a wizard with blood of a Mudblood does not have the marking. _

_The mark is only visible to those who have magical abilities. Squibs have the same ability to see the said mark being the only exception._

_Note: Mudbloods cannot cast a ritual or use a spell to gain anything the Mark of Lineage, even with the usage of Blood Magic from marked wizards themselves. Even if they cast the ritual, no mark will be produced. Both the caster and the child will parish if there is an attempt to obtain the mark._

_The mark on an offspring corresponds to the one the father—the one who sires the child—carries. This is why many Purebloods and Half-bloods try to marry amongst themselves and not with Mudbloods so the mark's legacy remains…with some blood traitors wizarding families adding Mudblood blood occasionally, while still being aware of the limitations to do so for risk of having their mark disappear. _

_As briefly stated earlier, a female offspring cannot beget children that express the mark of their own lineage—but that of their husbands'._

_*A Pureblood child is, by definition, someone born from parents who are either Purebloods or parents who are both with magical abilities. The exception is in regards to a squib offspring, who are considered a Pureblood if both their parents are wizards, or half-bloods if one of the parents are Mudblood. The squib's child still receives the mark._

_[See Page 200 for illustrations of recorded marks with the corresponding lineage family]._

'_So, his mark marked him as the offspring of a Potter. Interesting. No wonder the people who so far recognized him knew who he was'._ Well, that and his lightning bolt scar on his forehead that marked him as the Boy-Who-Lived.

THAT mark. The mark that marked him as the killer of his dad's own but also though, of his mother—

Harry made his way to other stores without being noticed, talent he came to possess from his years with those despicable…Muggles. He bought more books and a few other supplies, with the advice of Garuini.

Harry quickly took note of the school supplies he still needed. He has spend almost all his money he found while cleaning up his relatives' and the neighbors' houses but it would have been worse if he was not such a good bargainer. But, he still had plenty of money left; money that his dad had left him for his Hogwarts education.

He continued on to Diagon Alley now, his face still covered. At least he already had his beloved wand.

Flashback

"Yes, you would out of everyone…I would expect you to have this wand."

"Is there something unique or particular about this wand, Sir?"

Watching for Harry's reaction, he replied slowly, "Willow, ten and a quarter inches long. Excellent for charm work. Your mother's wand, that is."

"Quite unlike your father, who had a mahogany wand, eleven inches and wonderful at tranfiguration." Mr. Ollivander paused briefly.

"Yours is an unusual combination; holly and phoenix feather, eleven feathers. Quite curious indeed," Mr. Ollivander gave him a grave look as he continued to stare at him intently, almost missing the widening of the boy's eyes on his father's, James', wand information. "I remember _every_ wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one another. The very curious thing, Mr. Potter, is that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter….After all, he Who- Must –Not- Be- Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great, **(3)**" Ollivander finished, looking at both the marks that he adorned on his face.

After Harry Potter left, Ollivander stared continued to follow Potter with an unreadable expression before losing his sight of the boy in the crowd.

"_Curious indeed." _

End of Flashback

::We must leave now, Garuini. We will have to wait for the Dursleys longer than I thought since I finished earlier than planned.::

::Good thing we managed to escape from the Judas man in the beginning. Imagine if he had followed us.::

Harry narrowed his eyes in annoyance. ::Yes, but I think we might be able to use him later. It IS good to keep our wits after all. No need to be "rude" to our potential…friend.::

Garuini hissed in agreement.

**Two Months Later**

Vernon grumbled in annoyance one last time after hauling the Freak's luggage from his car's trunk.

"_Definitely the freak will be corrected once he comes back from the Devil's playhouse. I know what to do; I 'll do what I've always done to him,"_ Vernon thought maliciously, glancing at Harry once. Petunia was not there since she was currently taking their precious son to his old private schooling, Smeltings.

"_No use in having the both of us with the Freak."_

"Have fun, you retard. Just wait until you come back from that Devil's school you're heading to!" Vernon said.

Seeing no reaction as usual from the Freak, he was about to "correct" him a bit but restrained himself from doing so once he noticed that people had started to trek into the platform despite the fact that they had arrived early on the Freak's threat. The Freak went unpunished for threatening them with telling the other Freaks about his living conditions...

'_But when—if, though who would take him in?— the retard returns next summer, that will would be a different story. The Freak's scars will bleed once again with the help of the thread embedded within the whore's body….'_

"Get out of my sight and don't come crying to us when you don't find the platform. What kind of Freaks have Platform 9 ¾?" He laughed loudly, drawing attention to himself.

Then, he grew an ugly red before driving the car when he saw the people staring at him who seemed to be talking to himself. That Freak! It was the idiot's fault for making him look…freakish!

Refusing to sigh, Harry immediately left to find the platform, leaving Vernon to himself.

He chuckled darkly as he thought about the picture his Uncle Vernon must have made and the thoughts of the people who saw his Uncle seemingly being mentally unstable for talking to himself.

'_Oh, the irony.'_

::Wipe that smirk off your face. You should not be acting like you have these past few months,::

::You have grown careless, Harry:: Garuini continued.

::Garuini, you know that I do not have to worry anymore.::

::Yes, but you are being arrogant. Arrogance has brought demise to many great rulers have met their great demise because of their arrogance. You must trend softly. You more than anyone should know of this! Always.::Garuini answered softly back.

Harry nodded once in reply. Reaching between the platform between the ninth and tenth platform, he came upon the invisible magical made entrance towards Platform 9 ¾. Despite everything, Harry was fascinated with the physics and nature of magic.

Seeing from Harry's wizardry coat as best she could that Harry was the only wizard—besides the train's employees who were inside the stationed train getting ready for the busy day—there, Garuini said, ::Make sure you get the last compartment.::

::Yes, we wouldn't want anyone snooping around and catching attention to ourselves, now would we?.::

Harry and Gaurini sat in the last compartment on the scarlet train. While Garuini slept inside his coat, Harry returned to his thoughts of what he learned from his textbooks.

'_The Boy-Who-Lived. I wonder how people think I survived?… Dark Lord Voldemort was the murder. At least I now know the name of the murderer. Tragic—'_

The compartment's door opening stopped Harry's thoughts.

"Sorry, I thought this was empty—" a Hogwarts student said before starting to turn around to leave.

Harry stopped him with a wave of his hand.

Percy turned his attention to the young student, whose face was covered by his black cloak.

"Do not worry it; I understand," the obviously first year student said and with a hand gesture, he continued, "Please, take a seat. I was just reading this textbook," the boy said as he gestured to his book.

Taking his seat, Percy took out his Potions book from last year—he always liked to review what he had already learned—but he stopped when he realized what the first year was reading. A _Dark_ Arts book.

"You do know that you are not supposed to be reading those types of textbooks, right—?," Percy hesitated, not knowing who the covered student was.

"Hadrian. And, no, I was not aware that I could not read this 'type' of book as you say. Care to explain why?"

"Percy," he stated his name in return before answering Hadrian's answer, "You must be a Muggle, then," he said, not missing the abrupt change in Hadrian's subtle body language .

"_Is he those prejudice Purebloods? But, he wouldn't of even acknowledged me with my second-hand clothes and obvious Weasley lineage. Unless—yes, that had to be it"_

'_He must not know what a 'Muggle' is. He must think that I'm ridiculing him.'_

"A Muggle is—"

"I know what a Muggle is, thank you," Hadrian said, which surprised him since he did not know why Hadrian reacted to the Muggle title then.

"I am not a Muggle…I am a…half-blood, actually."

"Then you should why you can't read that book, then?" he asked, still confused.

"Despite me being a half-blood…I do not know a lot about the wizardry world due to…certain circumstances."

Percy nodded his head in understanding, though inwardly, he was still confused as to why a half-blood wouldn't know. Knowing propriety, unlike his siblings, though, he chose not to ask…for now.

"Now, do not tell me that this book is illegal and that its spells and curses are also."

"Yes, to both. Where did you get that book in the first place. The only possible answer would be—KNOCKTURN ALLEY!" he shouted, inwardly admonishing himself for not coming to this conclusion earlier. He would perhaps have to report Hadrian once they arrived at Hogwarts to McGonagall depending on how the future Hogwarts student answered his statement.

Hadrian narrowed his eyes a bit—though Percy was yet to see him.

"Calm down. And, no, I did not get this book there. In Knockturn, was it? My escort warned me of such a place. I actually purchased it in Diagon Alley. They must have ordered the wrong book which I happen to have found and then purchased. The cashier on that day was on a rush with the long line that was there. Thankfully, it is the only 'Dark' book I bought. I did not even realize it was a Dark book but now that you mention it, it does seem like such a book. But it is a mere introductory book despite the title's suggesting. I will return it to a professor once I arrive. No need to worry," Hadrian said before quickly gathering a Potions book instead to read.

"Right," Percy said, not quite sure and slightly unconvinced. But, his reason had to be true. Knockturn Alley was a very dangerous and ruthless place. A first year student wouldn't be able to navigate and survive there. Besides, Hadrian's escort wouldn't have allowed such a trip to such a ruthless place.

In order to make Percy believe him since based on has barely there unconvinced tone, Harry decided to pull down his cloak's hood.

'_Might as well. Besides, who would think that the Boy-Who-Lived on purpose bought a 'Dark' book?' _Harry thought.

Percy could not believe that the person which he had been conversing with was none other than the Boy-Who-Lived, _Harry_ Potter. It was obviously him as he recognized the telltale black lined mark of the Potter heir and his infamous lightning-bolt scar.

He hid his surprise quickly, though, when Hadrian quickly returned to his textbook, clearly none taken with his reaction to who he truly was.

Though, he did not know why he was told he was "Hadrian"…unless… the formerly known "Hadrian" didn't want his identity to be revealed.

"Your right," Percy said relaxing, referring to what they were discussing earlier. It must have been a mistake and coincidence that Potter came across the book because—well, it is _him_!

Despite his more liberal approach to magic compared to his family, he didn't really pay that much attention to Dark magic. He was against practicing such kind of magic as well. That didn't mean he didn't read about them a bit, though—it was required for the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum after all.

A comfortable silence reigned between Harry and him. Percy returned to my Potions textbook as well while enjoying the relaxing atmosphere that permeated between the two occupants.

Percy rather enjoyed Potter's presence, maturity and willingness to speak to him, rather unlike his other siblings.

But despite enjoying Potter's companionship, Percy knew that no person that age should carry him or herself in the manner Potter currently did. Despite his own nature, even _he_ himself did not compare to the composed and too mature nature of Potter.

He looked very intelligent and very serious for his age. Many of the older years would surely take notice and perhaps even envy such characteristics, before remembering _who _they held such ill feelings towards, of course.

What made Potter stand out, though, besides his looks and mannerisms, were his sad emerald eyes whose sadness that radiated was not one that someone would expect from a prepubescent child but one from a fully grown betrayed soldier.

What in his life had he witnessed or experienced to have such eyes? Emotions that his eyes reflected coming from his soul—his entire being?

'_But this was the Boy-Who-Lived'._

His observations did not vanished with that thought; for, knowing who this person was didn't deter him from objectively knowing that despite Potter's status and assumed by all luxurious living situation, something must have happened. Who would allow such a thing and why had no one noticed and do something?

Percy knew, though, that he wouldn't be getting answers any time soon though, especially just after having introduced themselves.

"Potter—"he started.

"Harry."

"Right, Harry," he paused, since he would never of had imagined before being on a first name basis with this individual, though for some reason, he felt privileged at the same time, "I would advise to get yourself acquainted with that potions book of yours that you're reading since the Potions Master at Hogwarts is very strict, demanding, difficult and does not allow for many, if any, mistakes—" he was soon interrupted when his annoying little brother came inside the compartment.

Sighing in annoyance at being interrupted, he turned to his brother. He noticed that Harry had put his cloak hood on.

"Oh….Hey, Percy. I have to sit with you since I can't somewhere else since everywhere else is full" Ronald Weasley, his younger brother continued to mumbled before taking a seat and without waiting for a reply, all the while not looking or even acknowledging the other occupant of the compartment or even his own brother.

Harry in response continued to read, Percy noticed, with, what he felt somehow, a glance and a small frown on his face.

"You know, it is rude to come in without asking if you could be permitted to sit with us. You should also use a better tone and with some respect, especially with your elders and obviously brother. Not to mention with me, a total stranger—what a lovely introduction of yourself to someone who does not know you. Imagine what impression you have brought upon yourself. You're a Pureblood, right? Yes, I can tell by your Mark of :ineage. I would have expected better from you, no matter your…financial situation," Harry coldly said as he looked at Ron's cloths.

The kid irritated Ron. Ron didn't like that he was being told how to act, especially since the kid was his age. It was not like he was perfect as well. He had no right to say anything. What irritated the most was that Percy didn't say anything to defend him despite being brothers!

Besides, it's not like he should waste his energy and "properness" on his boring brother.

"What would you know? You must be one of those dark Pureblood supremist with the way you are talking—"Ron countered, automatically knowing who this student must be after his lecture. But Percy stopped him before he insulted any longer.

Percy could not believe that Ronald had just accused THE Harry Potter of being Dark. The same boy whom his brother was always wanting, wishing and dreaming of being best friends with. Though he was still more confused than surprised by Harry's cold attititude towards his brother, it did not stop him from rebuking Ronald.

"Ronald, mind your attitude. Just sit down and go read or do whatever it is that you do," Percy told him as he sat next to Harry since Ron laid down on the seat he had previously sitting in.

Percy sighed inwardly. He knew that his brother—as well as the other two, the Twins—needed to get his attitude in check before he gets expelled by his behavior and/or words.

"You should change into your Hogwarts cloths by the way. I suspect that we should be arriving soon. I shall return shortly," Harry suddenly said. And with that, Harry left the compartment as an announcement proclaiming what Harry had advised them erupted throughout the train.

Moments past by until Percy rebuked Ron with his manner of being.

"That Bloody kid! He insulted us with how we are—"

"You should not have acted that disrespectful and you know it. Our mother taught us manners—use it. Besides, you shouldn't insult potential friends, Ron. I suspect that he'll be in Gryffindor."

Ron could not help but stare at his brother. '_Was he serious. Mental? Couldn't he see that that kid did not act like a true Gryffindor?'_

"Gryffindor? No, he'll probably end up in Slytherin."

Percy uncharacteristically laughed.

Due to his anger at the kid from what he said earlier, Ron was not deterred by his brother's out-of-character outburst.

"I thought you kept on talking about how you've always wanted to be his friends since ever. He's Harry Potter. Nice presentation of yourself," Percy said as he saw Ron pale dramatically.

Ron could not believe that that was Harry. How could that…person be the Boy-Who-Lived? There was no way, no way at all, unless he was imposter.

Outside the compartment, Harry frowned. He did not like how Percy thought himself knowledgeable of him just because of his status and his background. After all, he might not be a Gryffindor just like his dad and mother. He narrowed his eyes as he waited to hear more. No one would be able to detect him after all. He truly was a Slytherin. He smirked eerily…silently laughing at the irony.

Harry's smirk changed to a wide smile on his face, so wide because it was hiding the devious smirk that pulled at his lips.

No one, not even the sorting hat would be able to tell that the snake had essentially killed the lion almost eleven years ago** (5)**.

x-oOo-x

"Who will be the tour guide who will call and take us to get sorted once we arrive? I heard about this when I went to redress in the bathroom from some gossiping second years telling first years," Harry asked Percy as he ignored Ron who merely stared in disbelief at Harry.

"His name's Hagrid. You will know who he is once he calls on your group. You can hardly miss him," Percy informed Harry with a bit of a smile, which surprised Ron since he rarely did smile at anyone or anything…then again, he rarely talked as well. It was a bit strange though to Ron that he would be talking to a stranger, Boy-Who-Lived or not, as he had known him his whole life. He was never like this with his parents either. Not that Percy totally changed with Harr—Potter's presence. He was just a bit more…open and relax.

However, Ron didn't like this Potter. _'He's like a Pureblood. He's not supposed to be acting like how he is right now.'_

The train stopped and Harry bid Percy good-bye before going to the giant man who was calling the first-years. Standing outside the group, Harry noticed Ron near him but seemed weary of him. In fact, he had a sort of glare every time he would turn and look at Harry. Not that he cared. He felt indifferent towards him.

'_Besides, I have more important things to worry about than him.' _

He had plans to implement.

Ron, meanwhile, went to stand next to a boy he had briefly met earlier instead. A boy named Neville Longbottom.

' _Afterall, Potter is dark',_ Ron thought as he decided against joining Potter who had ignored him, '_and probably hiding secrets. I can't prove it, but I just know. I won't trust him. He is no Gryffindor, but a bloody snake'._

He would not associate himself with a Dark wizard. He knew from how Potter carried himself.

Hagrid went looking through all the first years while making sure Harry Potter arrived, as Dumbledore ordered him—not that it was a bother, he wanted to see the little tyke he hadn't seen since THAT night.

Dumbledore, the good old man, told him to make sure Harry arrived safely, especially since Dumbledore had been concerned given that none of the staff had picked Harry up to take him to Diagon Alley. And for other reasons, Hagrid was sure; like when he seemed even more anxious after reading the letter Harry had sent to McGonagall and his want for independence….

Hagrid quickly turned around when he saw Harry. He could never forget how he looked like. Hagrid instead looked at the other wizardry students and noticed that none of them were paying attention to Harry who he knew would be especially recognizable with both his marks. But, no one had taken a notice to Harry's marks as they were in their own groups conversing intensely except Harry, of course, who was off to the side, and a bushy haired girl who was staring at the floor intently.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Hagrid who he knew had been staring at him before turning abruptly. He was confused at the look that Hagrid kept shooting him out of the corner of his eyes. He ignored him though—it was probably because he knew he was **(6)**—and got into a boat with a bushy haired girl who was the only one in the boat. They rode in silence.

The castle came into view. Harry could feel the magic twirl and just _was_ a part of the castle. He felt the magic pulse, wrap around him until it continued on it was way in the air with only some of the magic staying and interacting with his magic…making it a bit stronger.

Suddenly, a strict looking woman came into view once the boats had stopped and were taken by Hagrid outside Hogwarts. He knew who it was: Professor McGonagall.

Upon her inspection of the students, her eyes widened a bit when her gaze landed on him… but there was something behind her stare—that she quickly broke—that he did not dismiss. The Durselys sometimes had _that_ same look.

::Garuini, make sure to stay quiet and do not move. I feel that the professors will be watching the first years very closely, especially me for obvious reasons::

::Make sure we talk next in your dorms so no one hears us now. I would also watch out for that Ron and Neville. I sense resentment from both; deep hatred from Neville and hurt, confusion, disappointment, resentment and a bit of anger from Ron,::Garuini informed.

Harry discreetly walked to the end of the line, making sure he blended with the shadows so that no one would see him. Though, he did notice that Ron and Longbottom, kept looking for him, both whispering to each other, obviously talking about him.

He settled behind a relatively bigger and taller boy than him. Harry knew he had done right to hide behind the boy once he noticed that even McGonagall, who he knew kept an eye out on students, could not find him however discreetly she was trying to be.

Gazing at the ceiling once he entered and was guided by McGonagall to the front, he pretended to continue on gazing at the ceiling of the dining room, pretending to concentrate on it when in actuality, he was making sure to listen to what the other classmates of his year and those of the upper year, were talking of. After, he quickly and discreetly observed the professors and the Headmaster as well. Each one, except Professor Snape who looked with loathing, looked with enthusiasm at the incoming class.

"My name is Professor McGonagall and I am the Transfiguration Professor here. As such, you will refer to me by my given title," Minerva said as she was trying to find Mr. Potter but failing, which was most troubling.

"Now, when I call your name, please come and sit down on the stool to my left. You will be sorted by the sorting hat here," she said as she pointed to the hat on top of the stool, "where you will the promptly sit in your appropriate house in accordance to where the sorting hat put you in."

"_It is strange that McGonagall did not give her same yearly speech to use before guiding us here. She even changed it from all the others. I wonder why_," Harry thought as he knew that others like her before did not do such a thing like this before. Unknown to Harry, the other Professors and older students, were thinking the same.

Minerva took out her blank parchment and waited until a student's name, which would appear in a non-alphabetical order one by one, appeared to be sorted. It did not take long.

"Susan Bones"

A girl with long red hair stepped nervously to the stool. The sorting hat only took a few seconds before shouting her house with a loud, "Hufflepuff!"

The sorting continued on in the same manner, with few sorting worth Harry's time and notice from his thinking and observation.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Slytherin!," the Sorting Hat shouted even before the hat was worn by Malfoy.

"Hermione Granger." Harry immediately recognized her as the student who he rode the boat with and who kept glancing at him once he entered Hogwarts every so often, before he hid that is. Though she thought she was being discreet.

Harry scoffed. _'These students have no stealth or tactfulness.' _

"Gryffindor!"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Gryffindor!"

"Ronald Weasley."

"Gryffindor!"

Minerva paused for a second—which didn't go unnoticed by the staff. The automatically knew who was next. The same person they were all eager to see. Though, they all knew which House he would end up in, so his sorting was not the most anticipated part with Harry Potter's return to the Wizardry world.

"Harry Potter!"

Silence took place and then suddenly, whisperings were heard throughout the spacious room, echoing until nothing but murmurs were heard. Though, the professors looked impassively with the exception of who Harry knew was Dumbledore from his memories, as he leaned forward to the table. His bright blue eyes twinkled brightly.

As Harry step forward, he looked discreetly, analyzing people's reactions to him. All but Snape looked closely at him while the Headmaster was unreadable—_almost_ as good as Harry's own blank mask he always wore.

'_Hmmm…difficult…difficult…and interesting, very interesting. There's talent, oh my goodness yes—and a vast pure knowledge. A nice thirst and…. But what's this—something, something underneath, something hidden…I wonder what secrets you're guarding, Mr. Potter? For, even I can't read. What powerful magic that works with you__** (7)**__—'_

'_You remind me of another. Fifty years—'_

'_As interesting as this sounds, please sort me for many are staring. We can continue on with this or another conversation with no one but ourselves,' _Harry coldly interrupted.

'_Yes… There's no doubt about it. You definitely belong in—'_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Headmaster did not do anything but stay still in his seat, sitting rigidly and watching Mr. _Potter_'s every move. He could not believe that Harry was sorted into Slytherin, but perhaps it should not be such a shock when—. His mouth thinned slightly.

The professors also watched Harry—though not with the same intensity—for they could not believe that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, vanquisher of Voldemort, the offspring of two Gryffindors, of Light origins, a _half-blood_, was sorted into Slytherin of all places.

The other houses just looked at Harry, trying to assess him, to make sense of what happened, coming up with theories—after all, Slytherins were evil.

Severus Snape, though, looked uninterested. Underneath his mask, though, he was livid.

Blood suffused had his sallow cheeks when the Potter boy strutted up, every inch as arrogant and spoilt and thoroughly repellent as his father, and he waited impatiently for the instant shout of 'GRYFFINDOR!' which had met James Potter almost before the Hat touched his head, and which never came for his son.

He had known, they had all known, that the boy would be in Gryffindor, just like his sainted father and grandfather.

Yet he, Severus Snape, had heard the Hat's declaration with his own ears, and Harry Potter was walking to the Slytherin table. And now, _the child_ — Snape's fingers unclenched. He had sworn to protect it, but he had always thought that would be from a distance, that it would be James Potter again, a living James Potter who would finally _pay_ — but James Potter had had no more of the Slytherin in him than Lily… _how had this happened? _**(8)**

'_Imagine, the offspring of Potter in my house! A Slytherin! The very House his own father,' _Severus mentally spat and snarled '_hated. Potter must be spinning in his grave— the only good thing from all of this.'_

The Slytherins themselves did not reaction in a positive manner. They were shocked that The Harry Potter was sorted into the last house they and everyone else thought he would be sorted in.

Quickly regaining their reactions as true Slytherins that they were, they made it so that no room was left for the blood traitor to sit in. Sneers and dark looks were plastered, hoping to intimidate their new…member. It did not work.

Harry had seen far worse.

Pulling out his wand, he extended the bench and table and elegantly like a Pureblood sat down, which only served to anger the table. The reaction went unnoticed by the other Houses except Percy.

"_I can't believe he is in Slytherin. Ron was right. But, it must have been a mistake…though how could the Sorting Hat make such a mistake?_"

"_I'll have to write Father about this even though he ordered me to befriend Potter,"_ Draco thought as he continued to study Potter.

"Potter in Slytherin, isn't that rich, Ron? I actually am not surprised. Being who he is—"

"What do you mean, Neville," Ron said with his eyes going to Potter before returning his gaze on Neville while he attempted to eat his chocolate his new friend had bought him earlier.

"Don't you worry. I know his kind," Neville said as he turned to look anywhere but Potter since he did not know didn't whether he could stop himself from doing anything.

Hermoine, who was sitting by herself of to the side, listened on to the conversation. _"Just because he is in Slytherin doesn't mean anything…right?,"_ she questioned uncertainly as she saw Harry drink elegantly what looked to be coffee as he looked at the rest of the first years that needed to be sorted.

"_Though, something tells me that he is more alert than he seems."_ Unbeknownst to her, the professors were thinking the same thing.

Good thing that Harry had put protective shields on when arriving at the train. He knew he would need it, though it would not save him from all the curses. But, he knew that Hogwarts did not allow for Dark curses not in classes without the professors knowing.

"Who is that man who keeps on glaring at me?" Harry asked the boy next to him.

The boy talked to answered him, but neutrally; he had nothing against Potter but he also needed to survive in the House.

"Professor Snape. Potions Professor and Head of Our House" he muttered quietly and quickly, returning to his meal quickly to make it seem as if he did not talk, not that Harry blamed him, especially when looking at his housemates.

Harry would have to look into the Room of Requirement.

"He" the boy quickly added, "helps us for anything," trying to convey to Potter that he might want to ask him for help with their housemate and maybe some people from the other houses like Longbottom and Ron that he had noticed didn't like Potter.

"I will."

x-oOo-x

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Yes," a calm and silky smooth voice said as the owner of the said voice opened the door. That was at least until the owner of the said voice saw who was knocking.

It was the Potter brat. He didn't know what he wanted but the last _thing_ he wanted to see and deal with was in regards to the son of his nemesis.

But, just looking at him, there, alive while Lil— all because of _that_.

"What do you want, Potter!" Snape barked. He knew that he should control himself but he just couldn't. No matter that he was a Slytherin, Potter, just like his father, seemed to rouse out of him someone else of his being! He needed to get rid of him now; besides, he didn't want to waste his time with the imbecile more than he had to.

"It is not bad enough that you were—,"he couldn't finish as he looked into the thing's emerald eyes before glancing away, something that Harry noticed, "and now, have you in _my_ Slytherin House and that—" Severus took a deep breath to stop himself. He could not continue on. He needed to get rid of the heathen before he did something that he might have to pay for.

Severus thought that he had everything in control. But, the sorting and its results, coupled with just having the brat in Hogwarts and knowing that he would have to teach the whelp and now—and now, having him in his house—

His mind also filled him with longing and grief, which only doubled once he saw Potter's emerald eyes, so alike his mother, yet so very different and his own.

"Get out of here or so help me God, I'll—"

Harry, who had said nothing up till now, turned up abruptly at his harsh tone.

"_That imbecile I bet never had heard a voice speak to him so harshly. No, not where I am sure that he was catered,_" Severus thought while also mentally sneering when he saw Harry's reaction.

"You will what, Professor," Potter spat. That was not the tone of voice he had been expected from Saint Perfect Potter. He was in disbelief in hearing and seeing the thing act in a different manner than his ignorant father. He would have to take it up to the Headmaster as he had instructed.

"You cannot do anything since I am student here. I can always report you. The Headmaster seems to care about me to a degree from what I have seen"—Harry said, while thinking of the mistrustful stare Headmaster Dumbledore kept shooting him throughout the meal—"and I could use that for my advantage."

Red flags seemed to appear once Potter spoke his words. _This_ was _not_ who he had been expecting. It didn't matter though; he wouldn't make anything out of Potter's threat since Severus knew from the meeting earlier that the Headmaster would not be catering to the Potter spawn as he thought he would have.

Plus, he would be dammed before he had Potter of all people best him. He wouldn't allow such thing! Not especially after what his father and his gang did in his Hogwarts years, and especially not after Potter Senior took Lily away from him, leading her to her untimely and undeserved death!

Potter turned around, clearly not interested in the conversation, from his blank expression.

"I will take my leave then. You _are _the Slytherin Head of House. I had thought I was —how wrongly I thought… now I see. How wrongly I was to feel," Potter sneered and continued in a mocking manner, reminiscent of the late Voldemort, Severus observed keenly and disturbed, though he hid it, "that I was welcomed to interact," Potter spat, "and come to you for—"

"You will not continue with that sentence, Potter," Severus whispered menacingly, getting close to Potter's face.

He had enough of Potter's talking and rudeness.

"Get this stuck in your pea sized brain, Potter. You and I will not 'interact'—ever—as you so call it. You do what you must, by yourself. I am your Head of House only in name and nothing more."

"And one more thing," Severus continued while stalking Potter around, robes billowing, "don't ever speak to me in that way. I am your professor and whether you want to or not, you will show me respect. Or perhaps you've never heard of such concept?"

Potter gazed at him with a blank expression with only fueled his current predicament.

SLAP!

Snape could only stare in disbelief at Potter for what he had done. Never would he have thought he would stoop so low and in front of Potter of people. He abruptly left, shutting his iron door on Potter's face. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

Yet, he had a feeling that Potter would not tell….Despite not liking to admit it, Potter was sorted into Slytherin for a reason. He would have to tread carefully with Potter.

Whatever comfort he thought to himself, he could not escape hearing the promise he made to Lily play in his head as he stared at the red hunger-blazing fire.

_~~"Promise—swear to me!—Severus! Promise me that, should anything happen to me, __you__will__ to protect my child."~~_

_~~Severus looked at Lily. Not being able to deny anything to her, for his love was just that great, he uttered a reply in what he later would learn would doom him and would seal his fate.~~_

_~~"I swear, on my life and magic…Lily," Severus almost choked, but deliberately disallowing himself to do so._

Harry, meanwhile, stared at the hard metal door as his face was obscured by the shadows as his face turned murderous.

"I see…." He said to himself though his empty words echoed back into the empty dungeon.

Garuini hissed in annoyance all the while, trying to sooth Harry but failing as he made his way towards his room. Garuini was right; he would have to tread softly.

As the black and graceful movements of a black silhouette vanished into the morning moonlight, a puddle of water could be heard dripping from a pipe where the young student had just been, splashing onto a broken piece of abandoned glass.

.

.

.

.

"Well done, Severus. Well done," came a raspy voice from under a turban that one of the Professors wearing who had heard and seen what had just transpired.

x-oOo-x

**Summer 1938**

A tall figure with long auburn hair and beard crossed a road in front of a horse-drawn carriage. He did not seem deterred from the many curious glances from his flamboyant cut suit of plum velvet he was wearing (9).

The man continued on his way as he finally passed through a set of iron gates into a courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building that was surrounded by high railings. Mounting on a few steps leading to the front door, he knocked thrice. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl as took in Dumbledore's appearance.

"Um…just a mo'…MRS. COLE!: she bellowed over her shoulder.

A distant voice shouted a "just a moment" in response.

The girl turned to Dumbledore who waited patiently and was trying to get a better look at the orphanage from where he was standing. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean he observed as he followed the young girl.

Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-faced face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

"…and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets—chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well—well then—you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore, "And, I have come to offer Tom a place at the school where I work."

Raising her left eyebrow sharply, Mrs. Cole asked, "What's school's this, then? And why are so interested in Tom?"

"It's called Hogwarts. To answer your second question…we believe he has the qualities we are searching for," was the reply.

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How could he have? He's never been entered for one?"

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth—"

"Who registered him? His parents"

"_There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman_," Dumbledore thought.

Making a plan, he slipped his wand out of his pocket of his velvet suit at the same time picking a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

"Here," he said, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently as the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds earlier.

"Er—may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear to Albus that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in and she had the baby within the hour. She died in another hour."

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it so happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty—and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for _her_ father—yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus—and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died after that without another word.

"Well, we named him just as she'd said as it seemed so important to the poor girl. But, no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all. So, he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs. Cole helped herself almost absentmindedly to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheekbones.

Then, she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby, too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was…odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he—"

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and then was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" he asked.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents….Nasty things…."

He did not press her but was interested in what she had to say.

"Billy Stubb's rabbit…well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," Dumbledore said quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then"—Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time—"on the summer outing—we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside—well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things…."

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" asked Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet surpisingly steady even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to the helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Dumbledore saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

As they entered slowly, Mrs. Cole announced themselves in. "Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumblerton—sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you—well, I'll let him do it."

The door closed, signaling the departure of Mrs. Cole.

The room was a small bare room with nothing but an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets with his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence until Dumbledore broke it.

"My name is Professor Dumbledore," he said as he sat back down, indicating Tom to do the same. Tom stayed standing.

"How do you do, Tom?" he first asked, holding his hand out.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and shook hands.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," he continued after moving his hard wooden chair beside Riddle so that the pair looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"Professor? Like from a university?" Tom looked a bit wary, but a stony look quickly came across his face so fast that Dumbledore at first doubted whether the wariness had been there at all.

"Is that like a 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?" he pointed at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Tom. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last words with a ringing force that was almost shocking to Dumbledore. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue trying to, successfully, smile pleasantly. After a few seconds, Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?'

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school—your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course—well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. Whatever they told you, it was a lie. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "I am not from the asylum," Dumbledore repeated patiently, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Tom," Dumbledore said slowly, "I am professor, but I am not from a university. No, I'm from a school in Scotland. It's called Hogwarts, like I mentioned before."

Tom kept his face blank.

"Hogwarts is a school special abilities—"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

Silence reigned. Tom's face had gone blank. He was no longer glaring, nor doubtful; in fact, there was nothing to read on Tom's face at all. His eyes, though, kept flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's eyes, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

Eventually, he whispered, "It's…it's magic, what I can do?"

"Yes, Tom," said Dumbledore seriously. "And what is it that you can do?"

"All sorts of things," said Tom. "I can make things move without touching them, I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can turn some things into other things, and" – Tom hesitated, a small smile growing on his face, a smile that seemed cold and vicious – "I can make bad things happen to others. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was special," said Tom, before Dumbledore could get a word in, "The others, they called me a freak. But now, I know…how could I not have known? No one else could do what I can do. Always, I knew there was something."

"Yes, Tom, you are indeed quite right–" Dumbledore said, no longer smiling for a long while now. "You are a wizard. But you are not the only one with these abilities. As I said before, Hogwarts is a school dedicated to finding people like you, and educating them."

Tom lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it that made his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard, too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Tom at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts—"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir'".

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant—please, Professor, could you show me—?"

Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a wave a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet, howling in shock and rage as all his worldly possessions was there. As he rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Tom stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand as he said, "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," Dumbledore replied. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe," he finished as a faint rattling sound could be heard from inside it.

For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," Dumbledore said.

Tom hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" he asked.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look before replying. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally in an expressionaless voice.

"Open it," was all Dumbledore said.

Tom took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. The contents were everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not allowed at Hogwarts."

Tom didn't look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

With still a stern look on his face, he looked at Tom from over his half-moon glasses.

"At Hogwarts, you learn how not only how to use magic, but to control it. You should know, Tom, that we do not tolerate violence of any kind. We do not tolerate nor teach to use your powers in such a way. Magic is a gift not to be misused, and what you have been doing – not knowing the consequences of your actions of course – to your peers is against the rules. You should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic—yes, there is a Ministry—will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Of course, sir," said Tom, trying to hide his irritation. It was impossible for Dumbledore, though, to tell what he was thinking as Tom's face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardbox. Even so, he continued to play close attention to Tom.

When Tom finished putting away the stolen objects, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't any money."

Deciding to move on with the proceedings, Dumbledore stood up, his tall figure looming over Tom. Deciding to begin from the beginning, Dumbledore said, "All then that remains is to go to Diagon Alley to fetch your supplies. I have the list with me. We can go up to London by bus, then catch the -"

"You're coming with me?" Tom asked, interrupting Dumbledore who frowned in return.

"It is traditional for those new to the Wizarding World to be accompanied by -"

"I can go myself, sir. I'm used to doing things by myself. How do you get to this Diagon Alley—sir?" Tom interrupted abruptly as he looked very opposed to the idea of anyone coming with him.

Dumbledore frowned once again. All this was very unsettling indeed—there was no denying the obvious.

"I suppose if you are determined to go on your own, I cannot stop you. But I do advise, Tom, having someone accompany you, for it is a confusing time for any -"

"How do you get to Diagon Alley, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. If the boy really did not want his company, then he could not impose himself.

"Very well Tom, if that is your wish. The entrance to Diagon Alley is through a pub named The Leaky Cauldon, on Charing Cross road, London. You should be able to find the way, or ask a policeman for directions. You will be able to see the Leaky Cauldron, though Muggles around you—non-magical people, that is—will not. Ask for Tom the barman—easy enough to remember, as he shares your name—"

Tom gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

Noticing this, Dumbledore asked, "You dislike the name 'Tom?'"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said muttered Tom, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So—when I've got all my stuff—when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"This," he said, passing Tom an envelope, "is a list of instructions on how to get to Hogwarts, and what you will need to buy."

Deciding that he had imparted all the information he needed to, Dumbledore held out his hand once more for Tom to shake. As Tom did so, he seemed to contemplate something, as if he was debating with himself. Dumbledore wondered if he was reconsidering his decision to go to London alone.

Just as he was out the door, he was stopped by Tom's voice. "I can speak to snakes, you know."

"I found out when we've been to the country on trips – they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"It is unusual," Dumbledore after hesitating with the information he was given, "but not unheard of," he finished with a casual tone but with eyes moving curiously over Tom's face.

They stood there for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other deep within their eyes.

Breaking their handshake, Dumbledore pausing for a second to say "Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts," before heading for the door and leaving with a thoughtful expression on his face.

**Footnotes:**

(1)As you can see, this explains (with his time at the library) the reason behind Harry's advance verbal skills that he has that's not seen in children his age. After all, literature, as one of my professors said one time, help us to improve our English (or whatever language one uses).

(2)Timeline so far: Beginning June: Chapter One events.  
Wednesday, July 23rd, Harry's birthday, which is the same date that he cunningly, got his "surprise" Hogwarts letter.  
Exactly a week later after receiving and accepting his letter, Harry goes to the Wizardry World.

(3)Mr. Ollivander's lines came from _Heir of Darkness_ by Otaku no Hime.

(4)This is a paraphrase from Kamerreon's _Articulate Scissors_

(5)He meant his status as boy-who-lived.

(7) Some of this Sorting Hat dialogue comes from _Strange Likenesses_ by Elizabeth Culmer.

(8)This paragraph and the one before comes from _Path to Greatness_ by Peradan.

(9) The last section with Tom and Dumbledore, with some paraphrase and my own material, is from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ by J.K. Rowling and _First Impression _by Taure.

**Author's Notes:**

And, here is Chapter Two, I hope you enjoyed reading it!

I want to apologize for taking a long time to update. I am so sorry that it has taken so much. But, those of you who have followed my posts, you would know why. I know how it is when you want an update and you're not getting it...But, I am very glad (and hope you are, too!) that I have finally updated.

Please check my profile for more information as I post my status and announcements there regularly.

Please review!


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